


A Very Highland Fling

by Moonlitdark



Series: A Very Highland Fling [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bench Sex, Kilts, M/M, PWP, kilt kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:07:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28450641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlitdark/pseuds/Moonlitdark
Summary: Harry tried to convince himself that the man his mind had immediately began creating a depraved sexual fantasy about was not who he thought it was. As Draco Malfoy turned, giving him a better view, Harry wondered exactly how he had managed to miss the fact that Malfoy was so attractive.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: A Very Highland Fling [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083962
Kudos: 44





	A Very Highland Fling

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted a long time ago on Livejournal. So if it seems familiar, you've probably read it before.

The church was decorated in delicate shades of cream and blue. Harry sat on a padded chair at the back of the room, trying in vain to look inconspicuous. Despite Hermione’s reassurances, he still had the hideous feeling that he had only been invited to this wedding as the required celebrity.

To say that Harry had been shocked to receive an invitation to this event would be a considerable understatement. When he had read the sickeningly twee little card requesting his company at Blaise Zabini’s wedding in Scotland, Harry had immediately picked the envelope back up to reread the name on the front, convinced that he had somehow received someone else’s by mistake. 

Harry’s attempt to discard the invitation had been marred by the presence of an annoyingly eager, bushy-haired friend. Hermione had snatched the card from his fingers and positively glowed in anticipation. This, she had argued, was the perfect opportunity for Harry to mingle with high society, something which Harry felt he could well have done without. Protesting had proven fruitless, so he had eventually given in, agreeing to escort Hermione as his ‘partner’, only to be utterly horrified when on the morning of the wedding she had arrived at his home to explain that she was no longer able to accompany him. Harry realised after he had been forcibly chucked out of his own apartment with a barked order that he _would_ still attend the event, that he hadn’t actually been given a reason why she wasn’t attending.

He felt like an idiot. Here he was, sitting in a cold church surrounded by a mixture of Slytherin ex-classmates he hadn’t seen for three years and who he would dearly have liked to have avoided for the rest of his life. And a collection of snotty-looking people he was sure he would much rather never have had to make the acquaintance of. Wearing a _suit_ , for god’s sake. 

A steady line of people filtered into the church, many of which enjoyed announcing his presence with a variety of unsubtle points and nods in his direction. Harry smiled politely at the masses as they trundled by. 

Once the guests had finally all been seated, Zabini made his entrance and stood at the altar, shifting nervously to await his bride. Blaise was dressed in what Harry considered to be an unfortunate choice of blue and cream kilted attire which co-ordinated with the décor. 

But Harry’s attention was unexpectedly perked when Blaise was flanked by a swishing swirl of tartan-clad blond. 

As he peered from behind a woman seated directly in front of him, Harry tried to convince himself that the man his mind had immediately began creating a depraved sexual fantasy about was not who he thought it was. As Draco Malfoy turned, giving him a better view, Harry wondered exactly how he had managed to miss the fact that Malfoy was so attractive. Malfoy wore his kilt with a refined sexiness that Zabini had not even come close to achieving.

Harry spent the duration of the ceremony mesmerised by the way that the pleats hung beautifully from Malfoy’s body. Tartan and knee-high woolly socks had never been something which Harry had considered to be particularly alluring, but the gap of flesh between the top of the socks and the hem of the kilt was fascinating him to a trouser-straining degree. The waist-length tailored black jacket Malfoy wore over the crisp white shirt and black tie showed Malfoy’s trim figure off to perfection, and Harry’s brain was forming an assortment of imaginative uses for the fluffy white sporran hanging in front of Malfoy’s crotch.

The reception which followed went by in a bit of a blur. Harry nodded and smiled at what he hoped were all the appropriate moments, his eyes wandering across the hall in search of any sign of Malfoy, before he would pull them back with an effort towards the person currently talking to him.

Eventually, Harry decided enough was enough and he drifted his way through the room and outside for a very badly needed breath of fresh air, quite positive that there was something wrong with him. He found a quiet spot away from the noise and bustle of the celebrations and plopped himself down onto a bench with a sigh, immersing his gaze in a pretty fountain and attempting to purge his treacherous imagination of all thoughts of blond hair or tartan.

He was still staring straight ahead at the spurting fountain, thinking that perhaps this wasn’t the best location after all, when he suddenly became aware of someone hovering at the corner of his vision. 

“Good evening, Potter. It’s been a while.”

Draco Malfoy settled himself in all his Scottish finery at Harry’s right side, seated too close for Harry’s comfort. Harry locked his head in a forward position, reluctant to look his old school rival in the eye and display the obvious lust he was sure was written all over his face. 

“Lovely ceremony, wasn’t it?” Malfoy enquired congenially.

Harry still didn’t turn his head as he replied. “It was all right.” 

“So, were you not swept up in the overdose of romance seeping from this occasion?”

“Not really,” he shrugged.

Malfoy issued a barely audible snigger. “Romance not to your taste, Potter?”

“No. Not when I really couldn’t give a shit about any of these people, anyway,” Harry mumbled.

“So why are you here?”

“I’ve been asking myself that question all day, Malfoy. In fact, I think I might just bugger off and leave you all to it.” Harry started to rise from the bench when a strong hand flashed out to rest on his thigh, keeping him seated.

“You wouldn’t leave without gaining at least _one_ pleasant experience from today, would you?”

“I don’t think that you have anything pleasant to offer me,” Harry lied.

Harry’s back and cock stiffened in unison as Malfoy slid himself even closer, never removing his hand from where it lay on Harry’s thigh.

“Well, you don’t want to miss out on the fun.” 

Harry squirmed nervously. “Fun?” 

Malfoy leaned in to whisper in Harry’s ear. “Yes, Potter. Quite frankly, I’ve become quite bored with this event and I feel that the evening could be livened up considerably.” 

Although he knew that his inner schoolboy who had deeply detested this man throughout his time at Hogwarts was going to regret his next question intensely, Harry spat it out anyway. “What did you have in mind?”

In reply, Malfoy rose from the bench to come around to Harry’s front. Harry yelped as he was grabbed under the knees and pulled sharply so his rump slid a little forward in the seat, and he sat transfixed as Malfoy moved to kneel on the bench over him. Malfoy placed his knees on either side of Harry’s thighs and sat confidently down on Harry’s lap with an expression of extreme smugness.

Harry wanted to push the assailant away, but he had an unpleasantly niggling feeling that if he placed his hands on the plaid he wouldn’t let go.

“You’ve been watching me,” Malfoy drawled in a low voice.

“I have _not_!”

Malfoy’s smiled widened seductively. “Yes, you have. You haven’t been able to tear your gaze off me all day.” 

“I haven’t even glanced in your direction!”

“I see. Is that why you're allowing me to sit on your lap?” 

“I -” Harry couldn’t think of a reply fast enough.

“Quite. Are you up for some fun, Potter?”

“It depends on what kind of _fun_ you're thinking of.” 

Malfoy frowned in mock confusion. “Am I not making myself clear enough? I thought I was being very direct.”

Harry thought that this approach was certainly the _most_ direct he’d ever encountered, but a large part of him remained suspicious.

“What’s the plan?”, Harry asked. “You just gonna wind me up and then stalk off and leave me panting?” 

“No.” Malfoy leant in to whisper in his ear again. “I intend to shag you blind and _then_ stalk off. The only question is whether or not you think that sounds like something you might find enjoyable. But then again, judging by the bulge I’m sitting on, you probably do.”

Giving up his internal struggle as a complete lost cause, Harry ran his hands up downy haired thighs to slide under the kilt and gasped as all he encountered was more bare skin.

“Malfoy, do you realise that you’ve forgotten your underwear?”

“Of course, I do.” The haughty condescension that Harry had always despised was clearly displayed, but he found himself having a noticeably different reaction to it than he had in the past, as his cock throbbed appreciatively. “I read that Scottish gentlemen do not wear garments underneath their kilts and I never do _anything_ improperly.”

“Hasn’t it been a bit cold?”

“A little breeze does not concern me where proper etiquette is concerned.”

“So, you’ve been striding around all throughout this wedding commando?” Harry was flushing at the thought. “That’s kinda hot…”

“Etiquette is not arousing.”

“Yes, it is…” 

“ _Sex_ is hot,” Malfoy purred as he raised himself to sneak his hand between them to work on Harry’s belt. Malfoy nimbly undid the clasp and Harry’s breathing deepened as slender fingers slowly lowered his zipper before creeping under the waistband of Harry’s briefs to take a firm hold of his cock. Harry’s eyes closed in bliss.

“Hands out and eyes open, Potter. I want you to watch me.”

Unsure as to exactly why he was allowing Malfoy to take control, Harry’s eyes snapped open obediently and he unenthusiastically removed his hands from under their tartan playground.

Malfoy extracted his fingers from Harry’s underwear and placed his hands on the back of the bench on either side of Harry’s head. “Lower your trousers,” Malfoy commanded as he lifted up just enough to allow Harry to shove his trousers and briefs down past his bum. Harry’s erection bounced clear of its restraints.

Immediately Harry felt Malfoy shift into position over the tip of his cock.

This seemed a little premature to Harry. “ _Wait_! I need to prepare you.” 

“No need,” Malfoy shook his head, grinning. “I think you’ll find me more than lubricated.”

“What?”

“I’ve already seen to that time-consuming little exercise.” 

“You’ve what? _When_?” Harry spluttered.

“A short while ago, in the restroom.” 

“You… _prepared_ yourself for sex before you came out here?” 

Malfoy looked unshakably back at Harry if this was the most normal thing in the world. “Yes. I thought I’d save us both a bit of time.”

“You stuck your fingers up your own arse in a public _bathroom_?” 

Malfoy raised a disdainful eyebrow. “Why is this concept causing you so much difficulty?” 

“Does the phrase ‘overly _fucking_ confident’ mean anything to you?”

“Not really. You appeared to be something of a sure thing.”

If Harry hadn’t been so turned on at the idea of Malfoy fingering and stretching himself in preparation for his cock, he might’ve been extremely offended. As it was, he resolved to take full advantage instead. Harry pressed down carefully onto tartan covered hips until Malfoy was snugly seated once more. 

Malfoy rose a little, and Harry struggled for breath as he felt his cock slide within the warm body. Wrapping his arms around Malfoy’s slender back, he felt almost dizzy as Malfoy rocked against him, steadily building up momentum. Harry rested his forehead against a firm shoulder as the speed increased, panting furiously. 

“Look at me.” Just how Malfoy was managing to keep his voice so level with a cock imbedded in his anus was a wonder to Harry.

Raising his head, Harry noticed that Malfoy’s expression was betraying his cool tones. Harry took in the growing flush in the normally pale cheeks, the thin film of sweat forming on his brow and the dilated grey eyes clouded with lust as Malfoy fucked himself. Every time Harry was close to climaxing, Malfoy’s rhythm slowed, only to gradually build up again.

Harry wanted to explore under the enticing mound in the thick fabric, but his attempt to slither under the kilt was batted away.

“I’ll take care of that.”

“ _Shit_ , Malfoy…”

“Do you want to watch me come, Potter?”

“Yes…”

“Well, then sit still.”

Leaning back just enough to create some space between them while still firmly speared by Harry’s cock, Malfoy raised the material to give Harry his first view of the erection which had been concealed there. Swaying his hips, Malfoy stroked himself, creating continuous delicious friction as he did so. Harry’s mouth hung open as he watched. 

Malfoy’s gaze was locked with his as he spurted onto the front of Harry’s shirt with a low, sensual growl. 

Harry marvelled at the still unshakable voice which drifted down to him. “I want to hear you say my name when you come, Harry.” 

At this point, he would’ve been more than happy to oblige any request the man straddling him uttered. Malfoy’s face moved in close and Harry embraced him again as the rocking restarted. Harry was watched intently as Malfoy rammed repeatedly downwards and the grey eyes shone with satisfaction when he moaned out, “ _Draco_ …” as he came.

Harry was holding on tightly and trying to get his rasping breaths under control when he felt his hands being plucked away from Malfoy’s body.

“Time for me to go,” Malfoy announced coolly as he elegantly disentangled himself back into a standing position.

Harry blinked in surprise at the abruptness of the departure. “You're leaving?” 

“Yes, I need to return to my duties at the party. Thanks for the shag, Potter.” 

And with that, Draco Malfoy straightened his sporran, rearranged the pleats in his kilt and spun on his heel to stalk away, just as he had said he would.

Still panting, Harry pouted just a little as he realised that he never did get to play with that sporran.


End file.
